


your fingers drip gold

by puchuupoet



Series: with story and song [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Romance, Clint Barton Feels, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Hospitals, Hurt Clint Barton, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sign Language, pizza dog - Freeform, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puchuupoet/pseuds/puchuupoet
Summary: Clint doesn't like staying in hospitals and sneaks out as soon as the coast is clear.Bucky's not supposed to follow him home.





	your fingers drip gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morganoconner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/gifts).

It’s silent in the apartment, which Clint desperately needs. His skin’s crawling just the same though, from the bandages criss-crossing his body to the absence of dog nails clicking about. Hawkeye must still have Lucky, and while he’d typically appreciate the alone time, there’s something about being _this_ injured that makes him crave a warm lump to cozy up to. 

But he’s alone and the fridge is empty save for some beer and all he can hear are the nurse’s words ringing in his head: “When you’re released, you’re going to need to stay still, eat bland food, and not be alone for the following 72 hours. Especially if you’re going to sleep, you don’t want to mess with concussions. But we’ll cover that once the surgeon okays your release.”

An upside, Clint realizes now, is that the beer’s a wheat ale, which totally counts as bland food. Staying still is another easy one, the couch extending an open invitation. 

“Two out of three ain’t bad,” his voice echoes in the apartment, and he tries to ignore the waver of exhaustion threaded in the words. He’s been ignoring his phone since he cut himself loose from the hospital, when the shift changed happened and Bucky had ducked out for food. 

“I’ll get you something good,” he had promised Clint, waiting for the room to clear before raising Clint’s hand and gently kissing around the broken skin. They hadn’t put a name on this yet, this cautiously overwhelming rush of need. “None of the bullshit you’ve been stuck with.”

Clint had carefully nodded, his other hand already busy under the blanket, removing the various IVs and bandages in his way. Bucky would understand, he knew, but after the fact. Once Clint was better. Physically better, he amends in his head.

He already wasn’t sure how Bucky had managed to tolerate being in the hospital next to him for as long as he did. There was definitely a strain around Buck’s eyes, heavy bags that brought out the grey in his eyes, and isn’t that a fucked up thought, Clint had admitted to himself. 

Clint had wanted to ask about it, the exhaustion, the way his fingers trembled, how jumpy he seemed when Clint woke up. But Bucky had been adamant, redirecting Clint to food or the nurse or more sleep. Always more sleep.

Clint settles into the couch, stretching out lengthwise with his head propped up. He’s buzzing with endorphins and beer and anxiety, the events of the past thirty-six hours hitting him hard. This is when Lucky would nose up to the couch, butting to Clint’s hand until sliding down beside him. But Lucky’s still gone and Clint’s head is throbbing. a staccato beat he manages to fall asleep to despite the pain.

“Pizza, no!” 

A loud whisper cuts through Clint’s dream. It was a nice one, involving a coastal highway, a classic car, and sexy fingers brushing against his neck. 

Clint shifts. a sad groan escaping. “Aww, fingers. Come back.”

“Wait, hey, are you awake? Shit, sorry.” 

He opens his eyes to see Bucky bent over, holding a whining Lucky back. Clint can see Lucky trembling, eyes focused on the couch, and his heart wrenches a little. He meets Bucky’s eyes and nods, and in a heartbeat Lucky’s on the couch, awkwardly precise with his footing. 

Clint immediately grasps on to him and the couch shifts as Bucky sits down, ass precariously hanging off the edge. 

“I...I couldn’t stay there any longer,” Clint breaks the silence, not wanting to look up. He’s tired of disappointing people, and this is too new to burden with past trauma. Lucky won’t judge, he knows. Lucky’s safe.

“I know.” Bucky’s quiet, his hand suddenly cool against Clint’s forehead. “Honestly thought I’d find you here sooner.”

“What?” Clint looks up too fast, vision only a little blurry as his brain tries to settle down. He squints and yeah, Bucky’s looking awkward all of a sudden. “What.”

Bucky brings his hands up, chest-high and Clint just stares as his fingers slowly start flexing and curling. There are hesitations and pauses, and yeah, Bucky’s fingerspelling the whole thing so it’s taking some time, but by the time he’s finished, Clint’s vision is too blurry to tell. 

_Awww, tears, no._

There’s a million things Clint wants to ask him, the how’s and where’s and when’s, but why is answered when he meets Bucky’s eyes. Clint wants to call him ridiculous, dumb, a goddamn fool because they’re not allowed nice things like weaknesses. Like this. 

“You…” Clint’s mind goes blank. ”You are bright futzing red, Buck.”

“Shuddup.”

“No, really, like, are you blushing cause y’know, you liiike me?” Clint’s pretty sure the concussion is acting up, either that or Bucky dosed him while he was asleep. 

“I jus’ wanted it to be _right_,” Bucky mumbles, fingers twisting around themselves again, in not happy ways this time and Clint aches for him.

“Buck,” and he waits until the other man’s is looking at him. “It was right, I swear, it was perfect. I understood it and everything and yes, that sounds amazing.”

“You’re just saying that cause I was offerin’ you whiskey.”

“I will never say no to whiskey,” Clint agrees with him and before he can change his mind, tugs Bucky closer. “Or to you,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss to his mouth. He can feel Bucky smile at those words and he’s pretty sure the butterflies in his stomach are drunk right now. 

“You want some painkillers with your drink, doll?” Bucky’s still flushed but he’s grinning now and Clint realizes he’s completely fucked when it comes to this man. But in the best way possible. 

“Only if you keep an eye on me. I’ve heard I’m a tricky patient.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Oh sweetheart, I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you got.”


End file.
